Tossing up Snowflakes
by PsychoDirector
Summary: *Character death x2* And as they lie dying in the snow, Raz remembers better times.


**_Ah, it's that time of month again... No, not THAT time! I mean, it's time for me to upload my latest drama fic for your waiting eyes. I'm pretty fond of this one, as it's a bit more emotional and less slaughterhouse than my last. Also because it's based on one of my favorite songs--"Shadows and Regrets", by Yellowcard. If you can be bothered to upload a video of it on YouTube, it makes for a nice soundtrack to the story, and I worked to try and make the story and the lyrics fit._**

**_Also, head's up: this fic contains violence, a remarkably tiny bit of language, and character death x2. One's obvious (LOL WHEE I NEED A BETTER HOBBY 8D), the other you don't get to see until the end. It just might surprise you._**

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It's snowing tonight. I know because I can feel it brushing against my face, clinging to my eyelashes, turning my lips blue. It tumbles from the sky like… well, the best way I can describe it is like confetti. Like those bits of confetti we gathered together at your last birthday party and tossed up and danced in and laughed at as if those little rainbow papers were the best gift you could have gotten. Of course, by the time they almost all had landed, we would gather them up and toss them again, until our arms were so tired we'd just lay back and watch the last of them settle.

Then you turned thirteen, and you decided that you were too cool to throw parties like the ones we used to have "when you were a baby". I had already bought the confetti—and I had borrowed a fan from Mr. Cruller to keep them afloat, too—but I didn't tell you as much. I just threw them away and that was the end of it. It was immature, anyway.

Remember when I first came over to your house? I saved everything I earned for a whole year, just so I could fly to LA to see you in time for Christmas. It was snowing then, too. It was like everyone from the state had gathered outside to gawk at the sky like turkeys, and I had to force past them all just to hide up in your room before you got home. You PSIblasted me in the shoulder when I cried "_BOO_!" (at least you hadn't hit your intended target, which I knew was my face), and your dad yelled at me for a full half hour, convinced I couldn't have been hiding in your room for just spook's sake and that we were underage and yadda, yadda, yadda.

Stubborn? Unbelievably so. Worth it? Of course. It was the best Christmas I'd ever had.

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"_What d'ya think?" I held out the gifts, grinning cheesily as I did. The flowers crinkled in their plastic wrapping, tickling the card tucked in their center as I strained to find the spot between crushing them and eliminating all risk of accidental droppage. From in front of me, Sasha frowned at the bouquet, adjusting his glasses as he examined them. We were in the middle of a tiny store known as Flora's Fauna, trying to find last minute Christmas gifts that weren't mistletoe, holly, or poinsettias. I had finally settled on a pretty set of Morning Glories, marigolds, lilacs, and, in the center, one big, khaki-colored lily. At least, that's what the sticker on the wrapper said, as well as watering instructions and some Japanese text that looked like it said the same but was probably an ad for Mr. Sparkle._

"…_I wasn't aware Lili was a Minnesota Vikings fan," Sasha finally replied, his voice more monotone than ever as he was forced to contribute to shopping, his least favorite of hobbies. I blinked, eying the purple and gold—the Vikings' team colors—suspiciously._

"_Er… maybe she won't notice?" I feigned. It was likely—after all, Lili had moved to Los Angeles two years ago, far from the Midwest, and wasn't exactly a huge football fan. Even so, I knew she didn't think I was one, and the message these flowers would convey was big enough to overcome that little bit, or so I hoped. "Besides, purple's her favorite color, and lilacs are her favorite kind of flower. Mine, too, but that's because they smell like my Mom's shampoo." To emphasize this, I took a long whiff of the bouquet, enjoying the familiar scent. From beyond me, Sasha sighed, then stood._

"_Razputin, you should know that pretty gimmicks and nice gifts aren't going to solve anything. If you want to apologize, just tell her yourself." My grin sank. Of course I wanted to apologize, but I didn't want to come off as some egomaniac who wouldn't even buy her a Christmas present because my admitting I was wrong should have made her happy enough. _

_Sasha seemed to read my mind, as he dropped the subject to pull out the card from the flowers. I looked up at the image on the front—a caricature of a teary-eyed beagle—and blushed._

"_It's blank," he said simply. I yanked it from his grip, frowning._

"_Well, I haven't written anything in it _yet_," I defended. "It's gonna' have one of those nice poems or something… you know, artsy." It was then that Milla chose to break in. She was a few yards away, near the wall, eying a display of petunias, but broke away from the flowers to look over at us._

"_Oh, darling, you're not getting those for Lili, are you?" she asked with a smile. "She's a biokinetic, for heaven's sake! You might as well mail her a bunch of corpses!"_

…_I very nearly cried that day._

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The snow is lightening up now. I can't feel it against me, but I know it is because I can see it coming down less and less. Soon we'll have to gather it together and toss it back up again, but I can't move my arms enough to even reach out and touch it, so I just lie here and watch and wait. Sooner or later someone'll come along, but no matter how many times I explain about your birthday party, I know they won't stop long enough to toss snowflakes around. I know there are more important things to be worried about; I know I'm lying in a pool of my own blood and that my body's gone numb and that the real reason I want someone to stop by is so they can call an ambulance and get help…

…But right now all I can think about is how I wish I was back at your twelfth birthday party. Before you moved to Los Angeles, before we had that stupid fight and broke up, and before you decided that playing with confetti was dumb.

Later, I promise, I'll tell myself to face the truth. I have three holes in my chest the size of quarters. I can't feel anything shy of my mouth and my mind, the former of which is so full of coppery tang I can barely breathe. My vision's doubled. My head's pounding. The only thing that's kept me alive so far are a few sets of telekinetic stitchwork against my vitals, and they're losing their grip as I'm losing focus. I lost my ability to even whimper for help God knows how long ago. I'm dying.

But that's for later. For now, all I can do is focus on the snowflakes and remember.

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"'_Closed'? What do you mean, 'closed'!?" I stared at the sign in shock, as if by sheer willpower I could turn back time to business hours. Sadly, my abilities did not go that far, and my forehead hit the glass in frustration. The sign clinked against it on the other side as I did. It was mocking me._

"_Well, it is getting pretty late," Milla suggested, pulling a Devil's advocate. Of course she didn't mind. She didn't see—really _see_—those nauseatingly adorable stuffed animals piled up in the windows, those delicate crystal sculptures sending rainbows across their glass shelves, those fancy little chocolates I only had to look at to know were scrumptious… No matter what I got here, it'd be perfect for Lili. The perfect gift, the perfect apology, the perfect Christmas. _

"…_Come on," I finally grumbled, trudging away from the store and into the snow-coated walkway as I did. My eyes were only on the snow, as if I'd just find the perfect gift lying in it. It wasn't, and I began to walk away. "Let's find another store." Apologizing was proving harder than I had thought._

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Four hundred fifty-seven snowflakes have fallen since I started counting. They're still slowing down. It's all so quiet here, with no people around to make noise—one thing, I realize suddenly, is that noise always follows people. Whether they're laughing as they toss up fistfuls of colored paper, screaming as their feet crunch against red snow and they see a body with three quarter sized holes in his chest, or fighting with each other over something stupid, they're always making noise. Soon there will more noise than I can stand, but for now the silence is almost enjoyable. It makes it so that I can still hear myself trying to speak.

It hurts my chest, it's unbelievably difficult, and no one can hear, but I still hear myself whisper what I've been trying to tell you for the past few days: Lili, I'm sorry.

I don't even really remember what we were fighting over; it was that stupid. Something about immaturity, growing up, the usual over-dramatized stuff that prom queens and reality TV shows glorify and glaze over. You thought I was going to be a kid forever; I thought you were going to be an adult too quickly. We'd had it a thousand times before, but this time was worse. It infuriated you that I saw your father's job—the one that forced him to stay over all the time, the one that made it so that you only saw him on the holidays, the one that held such violence and loss beneath its decorative surface—as some sort of fantasy vacation getaway from my own life. You thought I was a hapless victim only able to see the image it portrayed, that I couldn't see below the surface and notice anything besides good pay and being a hero. You thought I didn't know I might get hurt, interrogated, even killed. I, on the other hand, grew angry at your self-perpetuating pessimism. I hated how you could never, even once, just be happy for anything I did, instead of becoming embittered over the risks. I made so many other people stare in shock and love me—why couldn't I impress the one person who mattered? It ate me up inside.

So one day, it all cracked. We fought bitterly, each trying to hurt the other as much as possible to try and make ourselves feel better. Nevermind that you were mad at me because you were worried for my safety; nevermind that I was so frustrated because I was trying to please you; for whatever reason, we hated each other.

It had started over what channel we should watch while I was visiting, can you believe that? Cartoons or some slaughterhouse movie, I think. Guess who wanted what. Then, before you knew it—"Seriously, can't you ever take anything seriously!?" "Can't you just relax for once!?" Five minutes later, after having expended every insult we knew at each other—even ones my dad would make me brush my teeth with liquid soap over upon hearing—we swore to hate each other and regret every moment we ever went by the titles of boyfriend and girlfriend. We did more than break up—we shattered.

I didn't come over to your house that Christmas. I didn't even talk to you for months on end, and even shoved my refusal to communicate in your face in ways even I have to admit were childish—"Maloof, will you please ask Lili to pass the salt? She wouldn't have you know it, but she sometimes forgets other people like seasoning on their food, too." "Man, Bobby, your hair looks like Lili really went to town with her curlers on it." "Hey, Elton, I found Lili's cheap old friendship bracelet under my bunk. Do me a favor and throw it in the lake, will ya'?"

I started going out with Kitty, instead. Anyone could tell that she only liked me because I was an overnight celebrity, but the important thing was Lili's expression when she saw me making out with her worst enemy. Besides, Kitty was pleasant when she was brown-nosing, and she made me a scarf and a much prettier bracelet.

Then Lili started going out with Bobby, and suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore. My only consolation was that she never made out with him, but that's probably because she was afraid he would tear her face off in the process with those teeth. I can't say I blamed her.

Still, I'm an absolute idiot. Were it not already happening, I'd have said I deserve to die, not apologize. Even that cotton candy stub, Bobby, would have been a better choice. The worst he could do was give her cooties. I ruined her life.

My cheeks are stinging. The tears on them have actually frozen over. Huh.

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"'_Lili, I just wanted to say I'm sorry'… No, no… 'Now, I know you probably don't want to see me'… What am I, a principal? …'I'll _bet _you don't care if you ever see me again, but I just wanted to apologize'… No, we're not trying to sell cars here, ol' boy… 'There's just too much that time cannot era'—no. Too corny, too romantic, too quote-tastic. Hmm…" I walked down the familiar path to Lili's house, hands empty and heart sunken. Things had changed since the last time I had come down here, two Christmases ago. The street had been freshly paved, the construction lot at the edge of the block was now a pizza parlor, and two pawn shops had been closed down, but it was essentially the same place, and I still knew my way. The only thing I didn't know was what to say to Lili._

"'_I tried to find you a Christmas gift, but nothing seemed right…?'" I began, using exaggerated pantomime as I walked. Just as soon, though, I shook my head and growled in frustration. "Too kissy-up. 'Lili, I was an idiot for doing what I did to you'… 'for hurting you so badly'… no… 'for…' 'Lili, I was an idiot.' Okay, good start. Then what?" I paused, thinking, then groaned. Fine time to draw a blank. It had been hard enough convincing myself to board the flight without a present, but without a speech, too? That was suicide! _

"_Well, the worst she can say is 'no', right?" I asked myself, but I wasn't falling for it. There were a lot worse things she could say than 'no'. 'Get away from my house, you freak, I thought I said I'd never talk to you again', for one. 'You're just saying that because Kitty finally dumped you', for another. And things my imagination couldn't even bear to think up._

_Somewhere above me, a speaker was oozing gentle violin in some Christmas song I didn't recognize. It sounded kind of like 'Sweet Silver Bells', but softer. I didn't know. Being from a poor family with little ability to even fake a generous Santa Claus and roasting chestnuts, and being a psychic, my knowledge of Christmas traditions was strictly limited. My dad just didn't have the mental shields to disguise himself as 'Santa' from an inquisitive four-year-old using Clairvoyance on a present, so they had pretty much given up the holiday a long time ago._

_Ignoring that, I plopped down on the porch of some store without a sign on the front, my head heavy against my palms. I had never had much luck with this time of year. I had hated Christmas as a little kid, always jealous of the kids on TV who got expensive gifts and whined about them, and those people in the songs who did nothing more strenuous than sit around a fireplace and roast things while I had to perform all day long for when they decided they wanted dinner and a show to accent their special day. Then I had joined the Psychonauts, and I had someone to not only give but _exchange_ gifts with, and Sasha and Milla, the latter of which pretended her gifts were from a fat, jolly man I knew didn't exist for three years straight and the former of which was Atheist and didn't celebrate but still always had a small toy or video game lying around from some mission or experiment that he had no use for. Things tuned out better then, but there was still that thing that went wrong, from Lili PSIblasting me after I snuck over to her house or the persistent sting of guilt regarding staying over at Lili's or HQ when I could have gone back home._

_And now this. I was one block from Lili's house, and I was shy of a present, a speech, and a clue. Try as I might, I couldn't just walk up to her door and expect the words to come. Heck, I'd be lucky if they managed to stay at that point, what little of them I had._

_Lili, I was an idiot. I should have never fought with you; you were right. I was childish, I was immature, I was stupid. Everything I did was just an attempt to make you jealous, and I forgot the real reason I fought with you. You see, all I wanted was for you to treat me like everyone else did. I wanted you to be the person who thought I was an amazing hero, not a bunch people I don't even know. I forgot that you only acted like… you… because you were the only one who really cared about me. So even if it is immature, and stupid, and everything else, I want you to know that I'm sorry. I need you. You're my safety blanket. I've just been too big-headed to notice. _

_Ah-HA! Perfect! I sat up straight, revising the speech I'd suddenly imagined with growing excitement. Everything fit—the references to her main argument, the apology, an explanation, and a nice metaphor at the end for effect. Better yet, it echoed my emotions perfectly. None if it sounded fake or deceptive; it was straight from the heart, you could say. _

_Before I was even fully aware of having done so, I had pulled out a sheaf of paper and pen from my pocket—the latter from an eternity ago, when I was trying to find something to write in the card that came with the flowers I didn't buy, and the former being just a receipt from a comic book store—and had begun to write. My writing was sloppy and illegible, so I forced myself to stop, erase, and start over twice. By the third time I was at least able to read the speech, which was a vast improvement. Now I could rehearse it on the rest of the way there, without mashing it up by trying to recall it from just my head. Sure, my head could do everything from read other heads to shoot death beams, but I had always had a rather bad memory. Besides, writing was fun and involving._

_So fun and involving, in fact, that I never heard them coming until I felt something cold push into my back and a low voice whisper in my ear. _

"_Don't even think about moving, Psychonaut." _

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Someone came by. Over a thousand snowflakes later, someone came by. I know because I could hear her shrieking in horror. She kept yelling, far longer than I could have even with my lungs intact, and soon they managed to mold into words. She was in hysterics, begging someone to come over. She was on a phone, I realized—calling for help?

It didn't matter right now.

"Please…" I whispered up to the sky, which had stopped pouring snowflakes some time ago. Miracle of miracles, she heard me, and I heard crunches as someone kneeled down next to my chest. She was getting blood all over her jeans, but that would wash out eventually. It had almost all been washed away by the snow, anyway. I forgot of it, instead choosing to lift a weak arm towards the empty sky. She peered up worriedly, bottling her panic surprisingly well, as if she thought there'd be some form of _deux ex machina _waiting up there.

"The snowflakes…" I wheezed. I wanted to make my wishes known—I wanted her to be Lili, to pick them up and throw them down again and laugh like I wasn't dying. I wanted to be twelve again. Instead, the concept of snowflakes seemed suddenly hysterical, and I started to laugh. Every time I even attempted to focus, I'd remember your face, and I'd be back to laughing. Eventually I gave up, and laughed and coughed and cried until she had started to scream at me to stop. I couldn't, and I was still cackling and sobbing at once as she jumped up and ran away.

To think a fourteen-year-old with three holes in his chest could make someone run screaming just by thinking of birthday parties. Ha. Ha ha.

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_The paper fluttered to the ground, landing on top of one of the snow drifts shoved into the corners of the stoop. I knew that, in a minute or two, the paper would absorb the water from the snow and smear its ink to further illegibility than my handwriting could ever pull off. Right then I almost didn't care. My mind, just seconds ago so clear with that letter-writing epiphany, collapsed on itself._

"_Lili?" I wheezed, my eyes staring straight ahead. One block away in that direction lay the mansion in which Lili lived, I knew. One block away, my safety blanket was probably staring out at the snow, the first snow in two years. I wondered if she was remembering our last Christmas together… Suddenly saying sorry seemed the most important priority in the world to me. Could I make a run for it?_

"_Actually, it's Cole. Nice guess, though," the voice hissed. The metal felt cold and unforgiving against my spine, freezing my thought patterns before they even had a chance to form. It was just a gun, but I knew there was no way I could shield in time if it decided to go off. Besides, even if I did, all they'd have to do was wait for it to run out before killing me. I couldn't run and shield at the same time. So, with that in mind, I slowly stood up, hands raised in surrender, then twisted my neck, hunting for whoever had me, literally, at gunpoint._

_When I caught a glimpse of the familiar face, the raggedy black hair and square beard, the beady brown eyes, and the sunglasses that pointed at either end and were only worn because they made him look menacing, I gasped._

"_You—you're—" I didn't seem to be able to form the words. This guy—of all people—had followed me!? How!? When!? _Why_!? It didn't make any _sense_!_

_He smirked, his eyes glinting behind their black shield. He was enjoying having me in his grasp, even if I was only playing along long enough to think of a good plan. Even if I didn't know how much was deceit and how much was paralyzing fear of getting shot. I could worry about that later._

"_Cole Smith, second most wanted psychoterrorist by the Psychonauts. Hiya, twerp. It's been a while." My eyes narrowed, and I fought to clear my mind of the fog of shock that had consumed it. This wasn't possible—but it was, and I wouldn't just sit here, snow melting into my shoes, and play the hapless victim. Still, one thing bothered me._

"_What are you doing here? The Psychonauts cured your insanity after you threatened to blow up that orphanage." I chuckled. "By the way, how does it feel to still be second best after that?" Cole growled, and I felt the fog lifting. I could plan again. I glanced around. There was a stack of boxes some way ahead, perched up against a rundown building. Just above them was a clunky old air conditioner. Provided the boxes weren't too soggy from the snow, I could hop on them and vault up onto the rooftops. And then…? I became aware that Cole was growling, and I was distracted._

"_That position was mine, you little brat. Sanders was too easily detained."_

"_Yeah, but he still set fire to_ three_ orphanages and a convent." My smile faded. One of those orphanages had been where Milla used to work. Sanders psyche had snapped during his final battle against the Psychonauts, so he would be spending the rest of his life babbling in an asylum with no hope of recovery, but that wouldn't bring those kids back. Just like the news of Cole's return wouldn't help me if I messed this up. _

"_So, what? I've gotta' kick puppies and eat babies before I'll become most wanted?" I nodded._

"_Essentially." There was a click behind me, and my eyes widened. This probably wasn't the best conversation to be having when you're on the wrong side of a homicidal maniac._

"_Well, this is as good a start as any. See you in Hell, kid." _

"_Woah, woah, wait a second!" I argued. I didn't know if he was listening, but I hadn't been shot down yet, so I took this as a cue to continue. "You didn't even answer my first question! Aren't you supposed to be giving to charities and wrapping presents right about now? You're sane, remember?" Almost as soon as I had spoken, I could see the flaw in this thought path. Luckily, Cole had the usual evil monologue fetish, so at least I wasn't dead. Yay, not dying!_

"_True, I'm completely sane," Cole responded. I bit down a contradiction with difficulty. "But this isn't a matter of how I'm too crazy to think straight. _I guess I'm just a bad guy_." The last part was appropriately hissed, and I shuddered. Of course there were evil people in the world—I wasn't that naïve. But he'd seemed so cheery upon leaving… _

_Of course. Who wouldn't be happy to avoid a sentence in psychic prison? Who wouldn't act like the kindest gentlemen, who wouldn't fluff their worst enemy's hair and laugh and apologize for their obviously insane actions if it meant they would get off on twenty-three attempted murder charges without so much as a minute of community service? _

_I said the only thing I could think of: "Aw, shoot." He laughed. That crazy-not-crazy guy actually laughed._

"_Gladly." _

"_Ah, wait!" Once again he waited, but I sensed he was getting mighty impatient. That was okay; I only needed one more pause._

"_What is it now?" he growled._

"_Just one more question. Please." A pressure was lifted off my spine, and I saw he had turned the gun down. His arm must've been getting tired._

"…_Fine. Make this good, because it's the last one you're getting." I only needed one. I took a deep breath, eyes trained ahead, then spoke._

"_Where is the—"_

_BAM. _

_He never saw it coming. Halfway through the question, where I was sure he was most off-guard, I flipped around, grabbed the gun barrel, then kicked him in the chest. He stumbled back, hand releasing the weapon as he hit the dirt. All of a sudden I had the upper hand, but that was child's play._

"_Hey—!" he began, but I was already hanging from the air conditioner and pulling myself up. From there it was a simple matter to clamber up an icy pipe up to the roof. Adrenaline was flowing through me, making my muscles jerk and heart pound. I had a huge advantage—there was no way anyone could outmatch a trained acrobat on the roofs—but my body still reacted like I was being hunted. _

_Resisting the urge to start running, I forced my jittery fingers to open the barrel of the tiny revolver I held. Evil or no, I wouldn't shoot Cole. However, there was one thing I _could_ do. Snickering, I pocketed the bullets, then made for the lip of the roof. _

"_Damn it, get down from there! Kid, I swear I'm gonna kill you if you don't show your ugly face in two seconds!" I could hear Cole screaming from the ground. I nearly lost myself in hysterics right there. He was like a trapped rat, yelling at the sky, but he still thought I'd just jump down roll over for him. He wasn't even armed; what, did he think his negative personality would inspire fear? Please._

_Nevertheless, I looked over the edge before the two second limit was up, grinning like a maniac and bullets in my palm. My expression was the exact opposite of his own, which was contorted in rage and desperation. He thrust a finger accusingly at me, the other hand shoved into his jacket pocket._

"_You! Get back here before I'm forced to do something drastic!" he threatened. I giggled—yes, I'll be the first to admit that I actually giggled. _

"_Like what? Pointing _both_ your fingers at me? Throwing rocks? Mercy, people!" It was then that I held out my partly-closed fist, shaking it up and down so that the bullets inside it rattled together. "By the way, you forgot something. Catch!" My hand upturned, my fist uncurled, and a shower of ammo fell onto Cole's head. _

"_Wha—ow! Hey, ow! Stop it, you little brat!" He waved his hands towards hs head, scattering ammo with little clinks, and I laughed mockingly. _

_At least, until I heard a bang, and something zipped by my face, missing my ear by half an inch. My eyes bulged, and I looked down at Cole in shock, my mouth agape. He was now holding a second gun, a pistol this time, and his grin was a lot more merciless than mine had been._

"_Thanks for the ammo, but my spare's already loaded." He blinked and I was gone, sprinting to the edge of the roof with fear in my eyes. I vaulted over the air vent, slid under a 'U' shaped shaft, then sprang off the edge onto the next one, all too aware of the maniacal laughter behind me. I could fight this weirdo or run, and right now I was too afraid of sudden, painful death to fight. _

_This rooftop didn't have another close enough to jump to. One was attached to it by a long string of tinsel, sure, but I didn't trust that stuff enough to try and slide across on it. For a moment I panicked, feeling cornered, before two things came to mind at once: 1. I could levitate, and 2. this building had a fire escape. Relieved, I chose the latter, pounding down its metal frame and leaping the last of the distance into an alley. That done, I stumbled back into a brick wall, leaning against it and breathing heavily. I wasn't tired; just relieved. That was close! I was pretty sure I lost Cole, though…_

_Suddenly there came a bang, and I ducked on instinct. This turned out to be a smart move, as I felt a slight breeze beyond my back. Instantly I reared up, to be greeted by a creepy face and a smoking weapon. Cole._

_Cole strode up to me, his movements confident, and I raced to my feet. It seems I underestimated him. That seemed to be a common thing; first while repairing his sanity, now here. I made a mental note to not let it happen again._

"_Aw, I missed." I scowled at him._

"_Don't sweat it. I'll make sure you don't get to miss again." He smirked._

"_Right-o, because this next one'll be the one that kills you." He aimed; I jumped, literally. Sprung right over his head. I then made to reach over to disarm him, but it seemed he'd learned since last time. Fast as I could blink, he shot his arms, which were gripped onto his weapon, back, making contact with my forehead and sending me spiraling dizzily into the wall. _

_However, I wasn't out yet. I pushed off with my hands and shot out into the street, away from the guy with the gun. Another bullet flew past, but I dived right and it missed. Then I was sprinting through the street, feet kicking up slush and breath cutting through my lungs. This was insane! I had to get to Lili's! If only this nut had appeared tomorrow, or something. I _couldn't_ even _risk_ dying until I told Lili how I felt! No! NO! _

_I flew down another alley, hunting for way up as high as possible, preferably back to the roofs, when I crashed into something… crinkly. Surprised, I tore my vision away from the skies to see what I had hit, then gasped._

_There, standing in the alley as if you belonged there, was you. Your arms were full of plastic grocery bags; most were just filled with vittles, but one held a large, sparkling Christmas present. It looked very pretty, but, unfortunately, when put against the concepts of your shocked expression upon running into your ex-boyfriend and the killer on my tail, it was lacking in the whole attention grabbing thing._

"_Raz!" you yelped. "What're you doing here?". I just stared at you, amazed to find you here, now, of all places. Now I could apologize! Better yet, I could save you from a homicidal maniac, too! This was all so perfect!_

"_Lili!" I exclaimed right back._

_BANG. BANG. BANG._

_Oh, no._

_Oh, God, no._

_There was blood all over your dress._

_I stared at the crimson stain in dread, my mind rushing with denials even as I lost my breath and my hand reached out shakily for the wet cloth. My eyes rose to meet yours, both pairs dilated and trembling. You were crying. Tears fell silently down you cheeks, as if you were dying. _

_No._

_Not you._

_Please, not you._

"…_Are you hurt?" I asked hesitantly, my voice breathless with shock. The blood wasn't spreading… why wasn't it spreading? Had you been hiding a Dream Fluff in those bags? My hand was still extended; you took it gently in yours, your gloved fingers cold with frost._

"_It's not me, Raz," you whispered. Your tone was raspy, scraping out of your windpipe as if afraid to be spoken. "It's you." Your hand pushed mine against my chest, and I, curious, looked down._

_You were right. Red blossomed across my sweater, mixing with the green to create some sort of non-color that rapidly grew to consume nearly all of my chest. My other hand moved to press against one of the blossoms, and I gasped. Snow fluffed up as I hit my knees, watching as blood pumped out between my fingers, sticky and wet. I couldn't feel it. I couldn't feel it. I couldn't… I fell onto my side, curling up into a little ball as I did as if that could stem the bleeding somehow. _

"_Ugh, finally," a voice behind me growled. "He was pretty quick, for a little brat. Thanks for stalling him, little girl, but I can't have any witnesses. Bye-bye, now." There was a click. I made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a whimper at that, struggling to warn you through the haze in my head and the lack of air in my lungs. _

_Something crunched beside my head, unnaturally loud when so close to my ear, and a pair of hands grabbed my shoulder and lifted my head. I opened my eyes weakly, squinting into the blurry face so close to mine. _

"_Raz!" you called, and I winced. You were right next to me; you could have whispered to as much effect. The wince turned into a full shudder, though, as you shook my shoulder. My neck creaked—what were you trying to do, break it? "Raz, stay with me! Raz, wake up and stay with me! Please, wake up! Raz? Raz!"_

"_Lili…" I croaked. A bubble grew in my mouth as I strained to breathe; it popped, and red sprayed across the ground. Ew. I coughed and continued. "You have to run… get help…"_

"_What, and leave you here to bleed to death? Get real." Your voice lowered, its usual sarcastic tone vanishing as you grew serious. "Look, please, just hold on. I'll get help, just give me a few seconds." _

"_No, I… Lili, I'm…" I meant to say 'I'm sorry'. I'm sorry I didn't get to apologize sooner. I'm sorry I refuse to let you stay and get killed by Cole. I'm sorry I didn't listen to your warnings about the dangers of being a Psychonaut and got shot. I'm sorry I'm so immature. I'm sorry I fought with you. I'm sorry for everything._

_Instead, I only gasped wordlessly, my vision turning white and feathery as I choked. I was out of air, I couldn't breathe… I finally sank against the snow, falling into a state somewhere between conscious and otherwise. My breathing was ragged and slow, but I still, somehow, managed to keep at it. You didn't notice, though—not your fault; it was pretty weak—and let me go to stand up. I knew you wouldn't run; had, subconsciously, known it all along. Sworn enemies or no, leaving someone you had once cared about to die in the cold at the hands of a common criminal while you hunted for a good doctor was lower than low to you. Even when that someone was already dead._

"_You killed my best friend," you growled. If I could have, I would have raised an eyebrow. We were best friends now? _

_Someone crunched through the snow, coming closer to us. I flinched. It didn't matter if I was there or not—Lili, you were still alive and kicking! You had to get out of here! Revenge wouldn't do us any good if I bled to death in the process or if you got killed, too! I wanted to scream at you, but all I could do was lie there and wait. Somehow, that hurt worse than being shot full of holes or knowing you wouldn't leave; instead of pulling you to safety and apologizing like some sort of comic-book hero or knight in shining armor, I had to lie here and listen to you needlessly risk your life._

"_Aw, too bad. Don't worry, though. You'll see him again real soon." Light flakes of snow fell on my face. Your fists were shaking; you were beyond furious._

"_You _killed _my _best friend_," you repeated. _

"_Yeah, I gathered that." There was a pause, and suddenly you screamed. It was so loud and feral that my thoughts cluttered together, retreating into near panic. The sound gradually receded, but got no quieter—you were running away from me, straight to Cole. I could see it so clearly; your eyes were burning and teary, face contorted in rage, fist pulled back and glowing gold with psychic energy, feet flying across the snow… You wanted to kill him. _

"You… killed… Raz_!" you shrieked, your voice more frightening than I had even known. Even when we were fighting with each other, you never got this feverishly angry. You never actually wanted to kill anyone._

_I realized, with sudden clarity, that you still loved me. After everything I said to you and every trick I pulled to give you Hell, you still loved me. And yet I never got a chance to admit the same._

_BANG._

_That was six. The gun was out of bullets; it'd never be able to harm us again unless Cole kept a few spare rounds in his jacket. Still, that didn't make me happy. If anything, it made me want to scream again. For, with that one shot, your cry had cut off as suddenly as if you had stopped existing. Something hit the snow with an anticlimactic pluff, and I felt tears start running down my face._

_Not you._

_Anyone but you._

"_Heh. Well, I'll just leave you two brats to make peace with yourselves. That should be good enough to get me that number one spot—after all, I'm the first non-psychic to take down two psychics with just a gun, how about that? Just in case, though, I've got some orphanages to burn." Then he was gone, and it was just you and me, crying and bleeding in an out-of-the-way alley on Christmas Eve. _

_Time passed. I was vaguely aware of drifting moments of consciousness; of screams of pain as I manually stitched up the holes in me in an attempt to stay alive; of fighting against the white veil that kept drifting over my vision like a cloud over the sun; of craning my head up to stare at the cloudy sky and whimpering to myself. Still, it wasn't until I thought I heard your voice that I woke up fully._

"_Lili?" No answer. I blinked slowly, then shifted until my balance slipped and I fell onto my back. I could now see the whole sky, but that didn't matter. I twisted my neck until I could just see you. You were lying face-up, like me, your hair plastered to your forehead and head pillowed with blood. I strained to ignore that; if I squinted, the color melted into your red hair, and I could almost pretend you were just lying down._

"_Lili…?" I asked again. Still nothing. My mind reeled, spewing denials as I watched your still form. I couldn't have just imagined it! You had called me! _

"_Lili, say something!" There was nothing. I began to break down, my gaze locked on the sky above. My mouth spewed out apologies, scrambling to recreate my carefully prepared speech. Maybe I'd be lucky. Maybe, even though you couldn't talk, you could still hear._

"_Lili, I was an idiot. I never meant to hurt you like that… I forgot how much you cared… You're my safety blanket…" I was crying. My speech was nearly forgotten, and my mind was just so cluttered, and I quickly just started babbling what I had been trying to say all along. "Lili, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't leave me, I'm sorry…" The snow started to fall, and I broke off to just sob._

_More time passed. I stared up into the snowflakes, my tears slowly drying up, and rewound back to the very beginning, when I went off to Flora's Fauna with Sasha and Milla to try and find a gift for you, all for you…_

**_-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - --- - -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --_**

There are sirens in the distance now. After all this time, they've finally come.

_Listen, Lili,_ I think, my thoughts almost giddy. _They've found us. We're going to be okay, Lili. We're going to have a good Christmas for once._ As usual, you don't say anything. You're already dead, dead perhaps even the moment you were shot, and I'm one step behind you.

The next thing I hear is the screech of bad tires on ice, then a loud slam. Someone is barking orders, someone that sounds awfully familiar. It's your dad, Lili, and he's come to save you. Two other voices join in, both loud and quick and recognizable, and I note that Sasha and Milla have also come to join in the fun. All of a sudden there's screaming and yelling and sirens and someone has grabbed my wrist and pulled my eyelid back and I can see something white and shadowy against the starry backdrop.

"Hey, we got a pulse over here!" someone yells. The next thing I know, I'm being lifted up and put against something soft, yet freezing, and someone is winding bandages across my sweater and jacket and over the holes. A plastic oxygen mask is plastered to my face, and soon I'm breathing warm, relaxing, pure O2. I can see why those people at malls charge good money for a few breaths of this, as soon I'm feeling very much like I'm stoned. Still, I can hear.

"Oh, no, not Razputin, too! That poor little baby!" Milla flutters. "Can he hear me? Hang on, baby, you're going to be okay! Just stay with us, and we'll fix you up good as new!" Then, suddenly flipping between the viewpoint of 'Razputin can hear everything I say' to 'poor guy's deaf as a post', she begins speaking to the doctor about things she probably would've not had me hear.

"How bad is it? Is he going to survive?" The doctor sighs.

"I'm gonna be honest with you, Ms. Vodello. There's about a ten percent chance right now, and that's only because of the stitches, and God only knows why they're staying there or for how long when he's out cold. He's got holes straight through his heart, right lung, and stomach."

"Stitches?" Milla repeats. The doctor chuckles, but there was no humor in it.

"The kid's a trooper if I ever saw him. He's been holding his organs together with telekinetic stitchwork since we found him, even when he's dead to the world otherwise. He really doesn't want to die."

"Well, of course not!" Milla exclaims, indignant. "He's only a little boy! Excellent job, Raz. Keep fighting; we can beat this." The last part was directed at me, not the doctor. I nearly smile. I know the moment I let those stitches fade, I'll die. Milla wants me to keep them there, but what's the point? You're dead.

"If it's any consolation," the doctor continues, "the police found the killer shortly afterwards. He was trying to set fire to an orphanage without tinder or flint. They managed to detain him with superior force, but only after one of their officers shot him in the head. He'll live, but his frontal lobe was irreparably damaged. He'll be in a vegetative state for life." I don't care. One thing dying teaches you is that two wrongs don't make a right, especially when your one true love only died in trying to contradict that theory. Plus, the thought of a gun taking another life makes me nauseous. Speaking of you, though…

"How's Ms. Zanotto?" Sasha suddenly cuts in, his voice leaking concern. I listen in.

"She wasn't so lucky," the doctor admits. "We used electroshock on her, but it was too late. She was dead the instant she was hit." I can't move. I can't even cry. Nevertheless, I feel my mood sink. You're dead. My grip on my telekinetic grasp on survival slips and wavers, growing weaker as I grew more exhausted. I couldn't hold on even if I wanted to.

Then, through the blackness behind my closed lids and the flaring lights of ambulances and official Psychonauts vehicles, I see a funny thing. It might be just a daydream, but I see you. You're standing in a rainfall of confetti, your smile broad and hair pulled up in its old pigtails. You're twelve again, before everything became too immature and stupid for you, from your birthday to your old boyfriend. I stare up at you from a sea of darkness, eyes wide and hopeful. You hold out your hand and laugh.

_Come on, stupid_, you giggle. _You'll miss the party._

_I'm sorry, Lili_, I reply.

_I know. I've been sorry ever since then, too. I think it's time to forgive and forget._ I blink, then smile, as wide and bright as it has ever been.

"Pulse is dropping! We're losing him!" someone yells, their voice far away. I can still hear sirens and people screaming at me to stay, but I can't. I don't want to. I laugh, taking your hand in my own, now smaller one. You pull me up, into a light that is both welcoming and blindingly bright. My vision clears, and I'm at your twelfth birthday party.

Far below, a set of orange stitches fades out of existence entirely, flooding an empty husk of a body with blood and killing it. The last words I hear are as such:

"Razputin Aquato. Death by fatal gunshot wounds, twelve-o-three AM, Christmas day." Then I pull the door shut, cutting off the world below and losing myself in the light.

**_-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - --- - -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --_**

**_...Okay, it was one in the morning and I was emotionally durp-derr, but I almost cried upon writing that. It's like a happy ending... but not? I don't know, it was cool and fun to write and took away my sleeping and I'm gonna go play some Pokemon to cheer myself up and stop talking before I ruin the moment kay bye._**

**_(Psst. Reviews make good things happen. Just sayin'.)_**

**_THE END._**


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